


Morning Starlight

by timehopper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Morning After, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Sylvain wakes up at the first light of morning. For once, he is not alone - and he's not sure how he should feel about it.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 202





	Morning Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I like to post fic on my birthday as a gift to myself and to others. This is one of those times! So please enjoy me indulging in my favourite fire emblem rarepair. <3

Sylvain wakes to warmth on his back. 

It's a pleasant feeling, relaxing, tempting him back to the sweet embrace of sleep. He breathes in deeply through his nose, curling into the gentle heat surrounding him, and exhales. The first light of the morning sun seeps past his eyelids to paint his vision red, and he groans, reaching for the arm slung across his chest. 

And then he realizes: he is not alone. 

He takes another deep breath, shakier this time, and reaches for the hand resting just below his collarbone. He slides his thumb along the side of it and lays his palm over the fingers splayed over his chest. The hand is strong, large, and he squeezes it as if to make sure it's real. 

It is. 

"Mm…"

The body shifts behind him, skin against skin and just the slightest bit sticky. It's then that Sylvain realizes, with equal parts horror and thrill, that they're both naked. And so he does what he thinks he's supposed to do in this sort of situation: he lifts the hand to his lips. He kisses each knuckle, one by one, and savors the sensation. 

"Ahh… " The contented hum behind Sylvain reverberates through his body. He can't stop himself responding in kind, and he tries to turn around, to take in the sight of Claude von Riegan gazing down at him in the early morning light. 

He only gets halfway, but Claude meets him there with a gentle, sleepy smile on his lips as he leans in for a kiss. 

"Morning, sunshine," Claude mumbles against Sylvain's mouth. His voice is coarse and rough with sleep, and it makes Sylvain want to coax more out of him. More words, more hums, more moans. 

"Shouldn't that be my line?" Sylvain traces a hand down Claude's chest. He licks his lips and leans in again, capturing his mouth in another kiss, long and slow and lazy.

Claude pulls away first, but he doesn't go far. Sylvain can still feel his smile, so close there's almost no space between them. "I dunno, should it be?"

Sylvain reaches up to push a misplaced lock of hair behind Claude's ear. He notes how messy it is, how much longer it seems when it's not brushed back in its usual style; but when Sylvain thinks back to last night, to Claude beneath him with his head tossed back and his lips stretched wide on a moan and his hair haphazardly strewn over the pillow behind him, it comes as no surprise that he has such an awful case of bed head. 

Claude licks his lips, drawing Sylvain's eye and attention back to the present moment. "Do go on," he says. "I'd love to hear you compare me to the sun for the, what, thousandth time?" 

"I can't help it when you so easily put it to shame," Sylvain responds easily. His hand moves from Claude's hair to caress his jaw. The sideburns tickle and scratch the pad of his thumb as it moves down to rest on Claude's chin. It's a lovely sensation, one that sends a thrill all through his body. He remembers kissing along that jaw, remembers the scratch of Claude's beard as he moved from Sylvain's lips to his cheek to his neck… 

Sylvain jolts, pulled from his thoughts by a sudden flick to his temple. "Ow! What was that for?" 

"You need some new material." Claude smirks with all his teeth; Sylvain's heart skips a beat. 

"Give me a break, it's early," he says. He pulls Claude in for another kiss, and Claude accepts it happily, opening his mouth as soon as Sylvain runs his tongue along the seam of his lips.

He turns again in Claude's arms, properly this time, so that they can finally face each other. It's easier for them to kiss this way, more comfortable, and Sylvain feels Claude's arms wrap around him. They come to rest on the small of his back and the nape of his neck, strong and firm. He sighs into the kiss and melts into the embrace, boneless. 

When they inevitably have to break for air, the hand on the back of Sylvain's neck moves up to card through his hair, messing it up even more than it surely already is. It feels nice, being held and pet like this. Unfamiliarly affectionate, but welcome, somehow. Sylvain almost feels guilty for letting himself indulge in it, in something he isn't certain he deserves, but he swallows down the bittersweet taste in the back of his mouth, just this once, and allows himself to enjoy it. 

But he still can't quiet the little voice in the back of his mind, the one telling him that this can't last, that he will have to leave eventually. That  _ Claude _ will have to leave. There's a war to fight, after all, and obligations to fulfill. People are out there dying while they linger in bed. But Claude is warm and firm and  _ here _ , and Sylvain is nothing if not selfish. Everything that's waiting for them can wait a moment longer. 

But not forever. Claude breaks the kiss slowly and eases back reluctantly. Sylvain takes a moment to catch his breath, and as he does he feels Claude tilt up his chin so they can look each other in the eye. 

He smiles, soft and gentle. His eyes are so green. "Now what?" 

Sylvain's fingers flex, curling into Claude's shoulder until he catches himself and forces his hands to relax. Now what? Now they need to move. They need to get up, get dressed, go about their days. Claude needs to lead the army and Sylvain needs to keep up appearances. He needs to follow orders and flirt with girls he doesn't care about and pretend his recklessness is unintentional. But it all goes unspoken between them, hanging heavy in the air. It bothers Sylvain now in a way it never has before. For once, Sylvain does not want to go back to how things are supposed to be. He doesn't want this to end. 

And so, instead of shattering the moment, Sylvain tries to prolong it in the best way he knows how. He gives Claude the most flirtatious smile he can muster, and leans in close. "Round two?" 

"Two?" Claude laughs and ruffles Sylvain's hair. His smile is radiant. "Sounds like someone wasn't keeping count last night. I think we're closer to round four than two."

"Then let's make it round four." 

He moves in for another kiss. Claude laughs and puts a hand over his mouth to push him away, but Sylvain, undeterred, takes what he can get and kisses his fingers. He manages to move just enough to get the tips past his lips, and Claude's breath catches. Sylvain smiles, but before he can go any further, the hand is withdrawn. He looks up to see Claude smiling cheekily at him, one eye closed in a lazy wink. 

"Fine," Sylvain mumbles on a sigh, but he smiles despite his disappointment. "Would you at least like to have breakfast with me, then?" 

"Oh?" Claude's expression softens. "Is that what you say to everyone you sleep with?" 

The small smile on Sylvain's lips falters, just the smallest bit, a melted candle flickering before its flame grows brighter. His response burns on the tip of his tongue -  _ Only the ones I wake up with _ \- but he bites it down and lets silence hang between them once more. 

The light in Claude's eye dims the more time passes without a word. He does not wait long for an answer, though, quickly realizing that he isn't going to get one. And when he doesn't, he sighs and climbs over Sylvain to leave the bed. 

Sylvain watches from behind as Claude stands, eyes roaming over his body and admiring the way the light plays off the toned ridges of his back. He wants so badly to reach out and touch him, to take his hand and pull him back to bed. To hold him, to kiss him, to - to - 

No. It isn't about the sex. Not really, although when he watches Claude bend down to pick up some of the clothes he'd left littered all over the floor last night, he's reminded all over again of just how good the sex was. But he doesn't want to think about that, to question if that's what he's really after. Not when he's so close to finally, finally allowing himself to have something…  _ good _ for him. 

He takes a deep breath.

"I might have," Sylvain says at last, once Claude has started to redress himself. Claude doesn't look at him, but his movements slow. He's listening. So Sylvain continues, face heating up with each word that escapes his mouth: "But you're the first person I've ever actually stayed with until morning."

Claude stills completely and, slowly, turns to look at Sylvain. "Really?" 

His tone sits somewhere between incredulous and disbelieving, and Sylvain isn't sure which of the two he finds more offensive. But he persists, careful to keep the irritation out of his tone. "Yeah. Pathetic, isn't it? Twenty-five and nothing but one-night stands." He bites the inside of his cheek and laughs bitterly through his nose. He feels small for finally admitting it. "It's okay. You can laugh."

And Claude does laugh, but it's soft, gentle - leagues away from the mocking laughter Sylvain had expected. "I can't say I was expecting that," Claude admits. "But I guess it makes sense, seeing how you were at school. I guess I just thought you'd have calmed down a bit in the last five years."

"Ha! Me? Calm down?" Sylvain grins at Claude, all teeth. "Never."

"Apparently." Claude walks back over to the bed and lays a hand on Sylvain's head. There's a glint in his eye, one Sylvain recognizes. It's the same one that had sparked his interest last night just moments before Claude had pinned him to the wall and kissed him senseless. "I must really be something special, then."

_ You are _ , Sylvain thinks. He sits up in the bed, letting the sheets slide off his body and gather in his lap. He gazes up at Claude but stays silent, because how can he put it into words? Simply saying he is is not enough. He's the first person Sylvain has ever  _ wanted _ to stay in bed with until morning. All those women and that small handful of men before Claude were nothing, in hindsight. Just distractions, comets speeding by in a dark and empty sky, quick and hot and destructive. But Claude isn't like them; Claude is something else entirely. He is like the stars, steady and constant, lights breaking through the fragile cracks of the night and lingering even in the soft glow of dawn.

Sylvain has never allowed himself to bask in the light of the stars. 

Claude offers his hand. Sylvain takes it. 

He's pulled to his feet in one strong tug, and he comes to stand before Claude with their hands still joined. Sylvain drinks in the moment: the sun is growing brighter every second, filtering into the room and bathing them both in its early-morning light. It's still cold, but Sylvain doesn't shiver in it. The chill is refreshing, really - familiar, like home. Sylvain thinks he could get used to it, standing in the cool morning air, too early and too pleasantly sore to think about the day ahead, as long as he can wake up next to someone like Claude. 

He reaches up, takes Claude's face in hand, and pulls him in for one last long, gentle kiss. 

But, like everything else, that kiss cannot last forever. Sylvain pulls away slowly, regretfully, and presses his forehead to Claude's. He can feel heavy breaths against his lips, and it makes him ache for more. He almost takes more when he feels Claude's lashes flutter and part as his eyes open.

Sylvain smiles. "So… Breakfast?"

Claude's smile grows into something sly, something devilish. Sylvain can feel it spread, just shy of brushing his own lips. He shivers with something like excitement.

"I've changed my mind," Claude says. 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah." Claude's tone is breathy and full of promise. "There's something else I'd rather do first."

Sylvain feels his back hit the bed. He can't stop himself from laughing as he reaches up and pulls Claude down onto himself, though the sound quickly morphs and twists into sighs and moans as lips drag down his neck. 

He curls his hands in Claude's hair, urging him on. Breakfast will just have to wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and would like to see more, have a chat, or find out how to support me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r) or follow my writing blog [@intim3ate](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com), where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests.
> 
> And if you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1355219789560471554). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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